Page 18 of Surrendering to the Obsession

It was just like how James had destroyed her house and she hadn’t been able to do anything but watch.

Her helpless anger.

Her tears.

Her loss. The disbelief.

The silent collapse of her home.

Her throat went dry.

Alexander watched her quietly.

“Sinclairs Corporation’s new project?” Mia murmured.

“Yes.” His voice was low. “Are you upset?”

Her fingers curled slowly.

Then she moved closer to him, leaning in, about to speak.

But before the sound could leave her throat, his fingers caught her chin. Her lips parted in surprise as he tilted her face up, forcing her eyes to meet his. His voice dropped, low and dark, the kind of tone that slid down her spine and made her shudder.

“I can give you anything, Mia,” he said, his gaze locked onto hers. “But I will never forgive anyone who hurts you. So don’t plead for him.”

She blinked—taken aback.

“You misunderstand, Mr. Graves,” she said quickly, not looking away. “I’m not going to beg for him. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have faced any repercussions for hurting me at all. He deserves it. Every bit of it.”

Hearing her, a slow smile touched Alexander’s lips—relief and satisfaction mixed with something warmer.

He pulled her straight into him.

His mouth brushed hers once, then he deepened the kiss so quickly her gasp disappeared right against his lips.

His hand slid up her waist, fingers splaying possessively as he tilted her closer. His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, coaxing her to open for him. She didn’t even realize she’d done it until his tongue swept slowly along her lower lip—one teasing stroke that made her knees weaken.

His tongue traced the corner of her mouth, then dragged upward in a slow glide, tasting her. The faint, breathy sound she made against him pushed him over the edge.

Alexander angled her head in his hand and kissed her deeper, his tongue slipping against hers—slow at first, then bolder when she clutched his shoulders. He followed the shiver that ran down her spine, kissing her harder, his mouth moving over hers in hungry, claiming strokes.

She felt every change in him. The way his breathing roughened, the way his hand slid from her waist to her back, pressing herchest to his. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking.

When he finally lifted his head—not even an inch—his lips were still brushing hers as he murmured, voice rough with restraint:

“I will always do anything for you.”

She was breathing fast, lips swollen, fingers still gripping his shoulders. He leaned in again, intending to kiss her deeper but she flushed and glanced around.

“There are too many people, Mr. Graves,” she whispered, barely managing the sentence.

He didn’t release her.

Instead, his hands slipped back to her waist and pulled her into his chest, forehead resting on hers, his breath warm on her lips as he whispered:

“I want to kiss you more,” he murmured. “Will you not let me?”

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her lips pressed together as if holding back the tremble.